


no she cisn't

by 101places



Series: aos pride [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dumbass Geniuses, F/M, Gen, Gender, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jemma Simmons, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, SHIELD Academy, Trans Character, Trans Fitz, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 13:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19086067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/101places/pseuds/101places
Summary: Fitz and Simmons have a discussion about gender that brings about some unexpected conclusions.( AKA : in which fitz is trans and simmons doesn't know what a gender is )





	no she cisn't

**Author's Note:**

> I SAID ID WRITE HAPPIER PRIDE STUFF and here we go. dont expect two fanfics in a day too often because thatd kill me. but anyway. 
> 
> you dont need to read my other pride one-shots- they build on each other but can all be understood well enough alone
> 
> i will admit that some (read: most) of simmons gender-fuckery is inspired by my own because sometimes it just be like that
> 
> as always kudos/comments are appreciated & i hope you enjoy!

Fitz and Simmons sat in Fitz's dorm, quietly getting on with their work. They were both working on projects from the few classes they didn’t share, and so there was a rare lull in their typical endless rambling. This was perfectly fine, as they were comfortable with each other to just share in one another’s company without having to fill every silence.

At Fitz’s desk, Simmons was losing focus on her work, which was considerably atypical for her. Her gaze and mind wandered, landing on the blue, white and pink flag that Fitz had recently began to keep stapled to his wall. She’d given him the flag a few months ago, before they had attended their first Pride parade together, but right now she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She waited a few moments, trying to refocus back on her studies. When that continued not to work she huffed and gave up, turning around to look at where Fitz was sprawled on his bed, sheets of paper surrounding him.

“Fitz.” She called, and he looked up obediently. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh- sure?”

Simmons frowned, trying to pick her next words carefully. “I understand that you are trans, and that you are a man. You say you are, and I have read _numerous_ studies on the topic, so I know it to be true. But I- What I don’t understand is, if gender isn’t about your body, then what _is_ it?”

Fitz blinked. If anyone else questioned him like this he certainly would have felt uncomfortable, but this was Simmons. He knew her, and he knew that this was coming from pure confusion and a desire to genuinely understand. He sat up and tried to think of how to describe it to her.

“Well, uh, I guess it’s about dysphoria. That’s-”

“No, no. I understand _that_ . That’s really rather simple. What I mean is, how do you- how do you _know_?”

“I don’t know how else to explain.” Fitz said.

Simmons groaned, trying to think of how to better get what she meant across. “This is _really over-simplified_ and entirely misses the complexities of what I am trying to ask of you,” Simmons ignored the offended noise Fitz made. “But I see people explaining it as if- well, as if _for me_ it would be as if I lived my whole life with everyone around me insisting that I was a boy, while I feel just as I feel now, but if gender isn’t about your physical body, then I _really_ do not think that would make me feel _any_ particular way. In fact, I think it may be rather lovely to be called a boy every now and again.”

Fitz gave her a strange look and then asked slowly: “Are you saying that you don’t always consider yourself to be a girl?”

Simmons paused, looking confused herself now. “I don’t know. Is that what I’m saying? I don’t think that it is. I just meant- wouldn’t everybody like to be considered a boy every now and then?”

“N-No, Simmons.”

Simmons sat back, her frown becoming more pronounced. “I think I am more confused now.”

“U-um, well,” Fitz quickly tried to rescue the conversation. “Do you ever feel like… like your body’s wrong? Or like it physically hurts when people call you certain things?”

“I know that you’re trying to describe dysphoria, Fitz, and that is _certainly_ not something I experience.”

“Okay, okay. What about euphoria?”

“...Euphoria?”

“Well, um, gender dysphoria being dissatisfied when people won’t acknowledge your gender- gender _eu_ phoria is, um, being satisfied when people do.”

“That wasn’t in any of the studies I read.” Simmons mused, “Why are you bringing that up?”

“Well… have you ever- uh- have you ever questioned your gender?”

Simmons blinked. “No. Why would I?”

Fitz looked at her strangely again. “You did- you just- you just told me that you don’t understand gender and think that you’d like to be considered a boy.”

“Isn’t that norm-” Simmons caught herself, quickly correcting her phrasing, “Isn’t that the typical cisgender attitude?”

“No, Simmons.”

“...Huh.”

Simmons turned back to her work, reading over a few lines of what she’d written. She didn’t really understand what had become of that conversation. Similarly, Fitz turned back to his work, his face starting to turn red as he worried that he’d over-stepped.

After a further half hour of silence, where they both pretended to study as they got lost in their own thoughts, Simmons neatly collected her papers into a pile and stood back from Fitz’s desk, using the time as an excuse to leave. They said their goodbyes as normal, though with perhaps a touch more awkwardness than was typical, before she made her way out.

She returned to her dorm to deposit her books, before making a round-trip and creeping into the computer lab. Thankfully, there weren’t many people around at this hour, so she had space to do her research without outside disturbances.

 

.

 

The next day they didn’t have morning lectures. Fitz loved these days, as he got to sleep in for as long as he wanted to without having to worry about missing work or getting dirty looks from his professors ( or, admittedly, Simmons ) when he tried to sneak in to class late. As it turned out, the cosmos were truly against him, as at as early an hour as 11am his door burst open and he was oh-so rudely awoken.

“Simmons,” He yelped, identifying the person who had decided to so cruelly torment him, “What are you doing?”

Simmons pulled his chair from his desk over to his bed, sitting down in it heavily. She looked rather tired, and Fitz wondered how much sleep she’d gotten.

“I stayed up to do some research,” She began, answering his question, “I already knew that not every transgender person subscribes to the gender binary, but I had no idea just how wide ranging their experiences are!”

Fitz blinked blearily. It was far too early to discuss gender, “Yes, the nonbinary spectrum is huge. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Agender, demigenders, bigender, pangender, genderfluid, genderflux,” Simmons began to list, “And _so many_ more- each with their own unique experiences. Isn’t that incredible?”

Fitz made a grumble that was probably an agreement, so Simmons continued.

“I’m not sure which label I, specifically, identify with. Not yet, at least.” She sounded a touch self-conscious.

Fitz rubbed at his eyes, trying to force himself to wake up fully. “You think you’re nonbinary?”

Simmons hesitated. “I’m not sure. Potentially? It’s difficult to say.”

“You don’t need to know.” Fitz reassured her. “Some people just like to leave the question open for a while, and some people never find the answer. As long as you’re happy. That’s what matters.”

Simmons huffed. “But I _want_ to know, Fitz.”

He smiled fondly. “I know, but these things take time.”

“I _know_ . I read up- a lot. Some people, like you, know that their gender doesn’t align with their assignment as small children, whereas others only realise well into adulthood- but I _hate_ not having the answer.”

“What made you realise that you might not agree with your assigned gender?”

“I’m not sure if I’d go that far,” Simmons spoke thoughtfully, “But I read a lot of medical journals, ever since you told me that you are transgender. I wanted to do all I could to support you. Just… I suppose there was a _disconnect_ there. Last night I read people’s personal accounts, and it all just felt more… personal.”

Fitz nodded in understanding. “I’m happy for you, Simmons, and we can talk about this as much as you want- just, not right now?” He continued with a whine. “I want to go back to sleep.”

“Fitz, it’s gone 11.”

“And?”

Simmons rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, but began to return his chair to his desk anyway. She made her way to the door, but stopped before leaving, looking back at him. “Fitz?”

“Mm?” He groaned, having already dropped back onto his pillow.

“Thank you for helping me. You’re a good friend.”

Fitz smiled into his pillow as he heard the door shut behind her.


End file.
